


Two young bucks

by Quente



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I thought it might be fun to write several drabbles in a LOTR RPS-style Regency AU.  So, er, here. Warning: Regency references snitched neatly from my favorite bodice rippers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two young bucks

Almack's  
It was the season, and in the assembly room full of eager maidens and overripe doyennes, Elijah felt trammelled.

He neatly avoided an advancing father (coming to ask the acquaintance of the latest buck on the market, no doubt, for his daughter's sake) and made for the balcony doors.

Outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and tugged upon his cravat.

And then a voice. "You weary of it too? I thought I was alone." The man in front of him bowed. "Orlando Bloom."

The man rendered Elijah breathless. "Mr. Bloom, I am most grateful to make your acquaintance."

*

In the dining room of the club

They fell into friendship as easily as sons of the same blood. At dinners of partridge and claret, they realized they shared more than a distaste for balls.

"Members of the Bon Ton cannot marry as they will," Elijah sighed, "I can no more avoid a wife than I can sell my entailed estate."

Orlando grinned. "Why, you sound positively cursed with blessings! I, on the other hand, must marry a woman with more ample endowments."

"I'd keep you richly," Elijah offered impulsively. "You can have quarters in my house."

Orlando's smile faded, and his eyes turned gentle. "You'd tire of me," he said.

"Never."

*

At Wood Manor

Late at night, over a game of snooker and his grandfather's brandy, Elijah watched Orlando.

Orlando's britches were slender as Beau Brummel's, smooth over his muscled legs.

"Your eyes are searing a hole through me," Orlando said finally, straightening up from a shot. "Why?"

Elijah gulped back his sniffer, walked to the sideboard to pour another.

Orlando went to him, caught Elijah's wrist as it lay on the decanter.

"Some say Lord Byron and Shelley are not merely friends," Elijah said softly. "Some say they have plumbed the depths of more than each other's souls."

"Indeed?" The question seemed an invitation.

*

The hunting lodge

But the question was too large to address with more than a blush and an averted gaze.

It seemed only meet that they'd decided to ride instead. No one would question the late night antics of such young and high-spirited lords.

Perhaps it was by pure chance that they'd found themselves at the small house deep in the woods, since the moon had passed behind a cloud and the night became too dark to see.

And perhaps it was by simple chance that they'd discovered a stash of ale, and even more chance when, stumbling and laughing, they'd done their best to valet each other . divesting themselves of jackets and cuffs, collars and boots, shirts and watches and socks.

But it was not by chance that Orlando brushed his finger lightly down Elijah's cheek, and it was not by chance that Elijah leaned forward to kiss Orlando's lashes.

*

The hunting lodge, part two

The kiss smelled and felt male. Elijah had kissed maids before, giggling girls that would trade him favors for sweets, although he was too much of a gentleman to press his advantage. The maids smelled like sweat and starch and the kitchen, and their mouths were small and soft below his.

Orlando's mouth was sensuously curved, hungry, larger than his own. Elijah felt like the soft one then, head tilted back by the taller man, body grasped close by arms that Elijah would be hard-pressed to wrestle away.

But Elijah did not wrestle. He pressed Orlando closer, felt the muscle and sinew beneath the soft underclothes, felt sweat run down his back in cold rivulets.

*

The hunting lodge, part three

Curled together upon the cot, Orlando's hands stroked down Elijah's bared side, and his nose nestled deep in Elijah's curls.

"Now I understand your skill with horses," Elijah said, covering Orlando's hand with his own. "You make them yearn to be ridden."

Orlando laughed. "And you're the finest piece of horseflesh I've had the pleasure to ride."

"I'm not your first, am I."

"I'm not yours either."

"I went to school like any other lad." Elijah shook his head. "But you've got more practice."

"And I plan to teach you all that I know." And another kiss, one to stir the blood to another boiling.

Orlando's kisses were too sweet to think of the morrow.


End file.
